


Asleep

by wingedcatninja



Series: SPN Dean Bingo 2019 [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon language, Character Death, Dean being tortured in Hell, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of hell, Mutual Pining, Nightmare, SPN Dean Bingo 2019, ThANGSTgiving Challenge, canon violence, hurt!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedcatninja/pseuds/wingedcatninja
Summary: After everything Dean’s been through, it would be strange if he didn’t have nightmares. The really bad ones are rare, but they still happen, especially when triggered by a careless comment from a demon.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: SPN Dean Bingo 2019 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1387618
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Dean Bingo, and also for [@cleighwrites](https://cleighwrites.tumblr.com/) Candice’s ThANGSTgiving challenge. My prompt was the line **“we’ve been waiting so long”** from the song [_We’ve Got It Goin’ On_ by Backstreet Boys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHBXPoJhnHQ), but the prompt is completely out of context of the song here. It takes place between episodes 15.01 and 15.02. For timeline reference, the reader character is right in between Dean and Sam in age, born in 1981. 
> 
> I apologize for nothing.

You have known the Winchesters most of your life. When you were kids, your respective parents would drop you off at Pastor Jim’s or at Bobby’s while they went hunting, sometimes together. Sam was like a brother to you. With Dean, it was...complicated.

When the call came for all hands on deck, you had just wrapped up a vamp only six hours from Harlan. Without even staying for the requisite story to the local law, you packed up and was on the road less than half an hour after you got the message. 

When you pulled up in front of the school, dawn was just barely lightening the horizon. Pulling on your FBI jacket, you checked the pockets for your fake ID. When you closed the trunk, you saw Sam striding towards you, the grin on his face barely masking his concern.

“Hello, Kitty,” he greeted you, wrapping you up in a bear hug.

“Ugh, are you ever gonna let that go, Samsquatch?” Your voice was muffled against his jacket.

His nickname for you came from the first time you met, thirty years ago, when you were deep in your Hello Kitty phase. Everything you owned was Helly Kitty. Sam had spontaneously blurted out “Hello, Kitty” when he saw you and it had made both of you laugh. Then he had stood up for you when Dean made fun of your obsession, and the greeting had stuck ever since.

“Never,” Sam chuckled. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” you gave him a tight squeeze before stepping back. “Now fill me in?”

Sam condensed the events of the past couple of days into a few short sentences, also tacking on the cover story about the benzene leak. 

“Wow. So God is evil now? Did not see that coming,” was your response to the story.

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us did,” Sam agreed. 

“What do you need me to do?” You were ready to get to work, figuring you would process the information later.

“We’re still getting confirmations of other hunters heading our way. For now, we just need a couple people inside the gym to keep the civilians contained,” Sam replied, gesturing toward the building behind you.

“No sweat,” you nodded while checking your back holster and sliding your gun into it. “Where’s your brother?” You tried to make yourself sound nonchalant, but Sam knew your secret and was not fooled.

“Dean’s in the principal’s office. I had to threaten to knock him out if he didn’t get some sleep. We all need to be at our best for this,” Sam explained, then checked his watch. “In fact, he’s gotten a good two hours by now, so if you don’t mind having a gun pointed at you, you could try to go wake him up.” A knowing smirk flashed across his face before he got his features under control.

“Ass,” you commented, already walking toward the entrance.

“Love you too,” Sam shouted at your back, the laughter evident in his voice.

Inside the gym, you could feel the tension in the air. You took your time walking through, getting a feel for the dynamic of the group and introducing yourself to key people. Part of you could admit that you were taking your time because you were reluctant to see Dean again. Eventually, you had worked your way across the gym to the door that led into the school. Taking a look back at the people, you slipped through and stopped to lean against the wall in the darkness.

You had avoided Dean successfully for the past six months. Knowing that he was right there, only a few doors away, made your heart race in your chest. There was no avoiding him now though. Before this thing was resolved, you would have to work with him at some point, so you might as well get it over with. Taking a deep breath, you set out through the dark hallway to find the principal’s office.

You had been a student at enough high schools in your life that you were able to quickly figure out the layout of this one. Too soon, you were outside the right door, rubbing your sweaty palms on your thighs.  _ No time like the present _ , you thought to yourself and eased the door open.

Your eyes scanned the room before you were even all the way inside. A lifetime of hunting monsters had taught you to always be conscious of every exit and hiding place. By the time you had the door closed behind you, you could have drawn the room from memory, every detail etched into your mind. 

Dean seemed restless where he lay on the couch. You were used to seeing him sprawled on his stomach, arms and legs going every which way. Now, he was on his back, hands tightly clenched on the jacket that barely covered his torso. His face was tight with emotion, instead of relaxed in sleep. While you stood there watching him, he muttered something inaudible, his head rolling from side to side. It broke your heart to see him like this, knowing there was nothing you could do. 

Crouching by the couch, you said his name.

* * *

_ Nothing was real. Everything was real. Screaming. Was he screaming? Pain. Claws slashing. Teeth ripping into his soul. Tearing him apart, bit by bit. And always the eyes. Those empty white eyes, watching, always watching. Different faces, but the eyes were always the same. Alastair.  _

**_‘You can make it stop, Dean.’_ **

_ No.  _

**_‘You know what you need to do.’_ **

_ No!  _

_ Oh, God, help me! Indescribable pain. Agony. How was he screaming when he was only a soul? Too much. The eyes. Watching.  _

**_‘The things you did to those people.’_ **

_ No!  _

**_‘It was art.’_ **

_ NO!!  _

_ Saying his name,  _ **_‘Dean’_ ** _. Mocking him. He tore himself from the teeth and claws ripping him apart and grabbed the demon. Alastair or Belphegor? His hands squeezing a throat that was not a throat. Nothing was real… _

* * *

It happened too fast for you to react. Suddenly you were on the floor, Dean straddling you, his hands squeezing your throat. Your self-preservation kicked in and you fought him, struggling to break his hold. Looking into his eyes, you saw death, rage, pain. Your vision started to narrow and blur, your lungs burned for lack of air. Through sheer willpower, you managed to choke out a single word.

“Dean…”

As if a switch had flipped, he released you and scrambled backward until he was off you and sitting with his back against the wall. He was gasping for breath like he was the one who had been choked, his eyes wild, darting around the room.

You scooted over to him, trying to make eye contact, not daring to touch him yet.

“Dean,” you croaked out, then coughed to clear your throat. “Dean, it’s me. It’s Y/N. Hey, look at me.”

Finally, his darting eyes came to rest on yours. The look of pain in them was enough to break your heart, again. 

“Y/N?” He sounded confused as if he was unsure of where he was.

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re safe,” you reassured him, finally daring to put a hand on his knee, squeezing gently.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face as if trying to erase whatever he had seen in his dream. You wanted to move closer, to wrap your arms around him and make all of his pain go away, but you were afraid that might just make him retreat back behind his impenetrable wall of denial. Instead, you remained where you were, your hand on his knee just to reassure him of your presence.

“Crap. Did I-- I hurt you, didn’t I?” Dean looked absolutely devastated as the realization hit him.

“It’s ok, Dean, you didn’t mean to, you just didn’t realize it was me,” you hurried to assure him.

“Fuck. That’s no excuse, Kitty!” He almost shouted the words, shame and regret evident in his voice.

“Stop. Please, Dean, just stop. You’re not allowed to blame yourself for this. I won’t allow it,” you told him.

His use of your nickname had sent a shiver through you. Even in that tone of voice, him calling you ‘Kitty’, like he used to, it brought all the past feelings back with a vengeance. You struggled to push it all aside for the moment. Dean was struggling with his emotions as well. You could see them all flashing across his face. To you, Dean was an open book. One you had once seen yourself being part of. 

“Dean, look at me,” you prompted, giving his knee another gentle squeeze.

A long moment went by before he finally raised his head reluctantly and looked into your eyes. Squashing down all of your own emotions, you tried to get him to talk to you.

“I thought the nightmares were getting better? What happened?” Your concern for him came through in your voice, and you did nothing to hide it.

Dean let out a shaky sigh, his eyes darting away from yours again, but not before you saw the pain he tried to hide. He seemed for a moment like he was going to brush it off, push you away, just like he had been doing for the past couple of years. It had been one of the reasons you had decided to give him space. Almost holding your breath, you waited for him to speak; hoped that he would.

“They were. Getting better, I mean. It was something the demon said, about...y’know,” Dean finally offered by way of explanation.

Sam had told you about Belphegor and you were able to connect the dots quickly. The demon had commented on Dean’s time in Hell, triggering the nightmare. You felt the anger bubble up inside you, but you pushed it aside. For now.

You wished there was something, anything, you could say to make Dean’s pain go away, but you knew from experience that it was something he had to work through on his own. All you could offer was your silent compassion. You scooted over to sit down next to Dean, snuggling up to him and giving him a sideways hug. 

The two of you sat there in silence for long enough that you lost track of time. Being so close to Dean again brought up all the old emotions. In the dark room, with nothing else to distract you, you let the memories play out in your mind. 

Eventually, Dean sighed deeply, gave you a squeeze with the arm he had put around your shoulders while you sat there, and stood up. He held out his hand to help you up and you took it, hoisting yourself to your feet and brushing off your backside. After so long pretending, you easily managed not to show how much the touch of his hand in yours affected you. 

“I’m gonna go check in with Sam,” you told Dean.

“I’ll be out there in a minute, just gonna go splash some water on my face,” Dean said, giving you a small smile.

You let your hand brush against his shoulder before you turned and headed back to the gym. 

The people cooped up in the gym were stirring, restless at the start of another day. People saw your FBI jacket and threw questions at you. You deflected them while you passed through the large room, heading towards Sam who was on the other side of it, talking to a couple of other hunters.

Sam turned when he felt your hand on his back, giving you a smile when he saw it was you. He finished giving the apparently newly arrived hunters their assignments, then turned to you when they headed out. 

“He awake?” He scanned the room, looking for someone.

“Yeah. He was having a nightmare,” you offered, glancing towards the door at the back of the room, almost expecting to see Dean there.

Sam frowned at the information, concern evident on his face.

“He ok?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. You know Dean,” you shrugged.

He looked down at you with the same concerned expression, then turned toward you and placed his big hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I wish you’d tell him,” he said softly.

“I can’t, Sam. We’ve been waiting so long...now it’s too late,” you told him, looking up into his eyes.

“I don’t believe that,” Sam shook his head. “You know he feels the same way. If you told him...I don’t know, I just think it’d be better for everyone.”

You took Sam’s hand from your shoulder and squeezed it, smiling sadly at him.

“We missed our moment, Sammy. It’s never gonna happen,” you said quietly.

Letting go of his hand, you turned towards the room, determined to stay focused on the job. Sam sighed deeply but dropped the subject. You saw Dean slip through the door at the back of the gym and decided you needed some space.

“I’m gonna go check in with the perimeter patrols,” you told Sam.

Without waiting for his response, you shouldered open the door to the outside and left. A small part of your mind could admit that you were running away, but you felt like you had a right to.

Walking along the empty residential streets of Harlan, your mind swirled with memories. Your chest ached and your eyes prickled with unshed tears. Seeing a couple of hunters ahead of you, you took a couple of deep breaths to clear your head and moved towards them to check in.

Your body jerked, feeling like you had been punched in the back. Looking down, you saw a red stain spreading on your shirt, the very tip of a blade barely showing. As if in a dream, the pain began slowly, increasing until you gasped and fell to your knees, the movement pulling the knife from your body. Someone screamed, but it sounded like it came from far away. Your hands went to the wound automatically. Apply pressure. Staunch the bleeding. There was a sound like thunder nearby and you felt a draft of wind pass by you. Arms wrapped around your back and shoulders, the world tilted, and suddenly you were looking up at the overcast morning sky. Muffled voices nearby. It was too early for it to be getting so dark already. 

* * *

The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder beside the table where her body had been laid out. A sheet covered her, the fabric stained red with her blood where it lay over the wound. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Dean,” Sam said softly. 

Dean scoffed.

“I should have told her,” he rasped, his voice tight with emotion. “I should have told her how I felt.”

Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. There was nothing he could say. There was nothing to say. They waited too long, and time ran out.


End file.
